


Heliocentric

by orangescribbles



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, M/M, No Beta, Soft and private moments, Sporadic Updates, but also mahiru adores everyone too, character tags update as i go, contains both canon and au settings, everyone will at some point appear, i adore mahiru and so does everyone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangescribbles/pseuds/orangescribbles
Summary: That Mahiru is the centre of most—if not all—things is no less than natural. After all, one can’t help but be drawn to the sun and its warmth.(A collection of mostly unrelated 2 AM drabbles of varying lengths generally set in different AUs)





	1. SakuMahi, canon verse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReverberatingEchoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverberatingEchoes/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakuya is a liar, but Mahiru has a smile for him regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever get the feeling that sakuya and kuro are similar in how they possibly view themselves despite coming from different circumstances?? because i do u o u)/
> 
> ALSO!!!! my friend, ReverberatingEchoes, please stay strong!! may mother mahiru guide you to safety oTL although, that goes for everyone else!! i'm cheering each of you on, let's work hard!! o w o)9
> 
> music: [ Unwavering Emotions, Pokemon Black/White OST ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxPOSrrWjJY&t)

The gentle hands on Sakuya’s shoulders make him stagger. Its weight is difficult to bear, difficult to understand under the throes of sorrow and lies. He can’t find it in himself to straighten his shoulders under such a soft touch. There is too much weariness in him, piled upon years and years of existing so wretchedly as he does. All he wants, now, is to sink into the floor.

Some days he wishes to cease being, other days he regrets ever thinking of stepping further into the days. The pain of death to him is but the pain of living—there is no dying for someone like him who lies and lies and lies. 

“Sakuya,” he’s called gently, so gently by Mahiru whose voice is a bell in a silent world, “Sakuya look at me.”

Part of him wills Mahiru away, away from Sakuya who will only continue to lie and hurt because it’s what runs in his veins. Yet, at the same time, the rest of him wants nothing more than to look at Mahiru and hope to find something meant fo Sakuya in the planes of his face. The softness that Mahiru brings into the life of a liar like Sakuya is something he treasures so greatly that he can only ever pray for it uselessly. In the burning pits of Sakuya’s existence, Mahiru is a merciful touch.

Yet, even when it comes so freely to him, he doesn’t look up, he can’t—he has no right. 

After all the things he’s done to sweet Mahiru, he deserves nothing so wonderful. Sakuya shakes his head stubbornly as he bites his lower lip to muffle his sobs.

But Mahiru is obstinate, a bull in the face of an oncoming train and pulls Sakuya’s face up to look at him. Mahiru’s eyes glow with concern, gazing at Sakuya with a softness that he relates to the quiet glow of a candlelight.

“Don’t cry Sakuya,” Mahiru smiles, the tips of his fingers grazing at Sakuya’s cheek. He presses their foreheads together, his strands of hair entangling with Sakuya’s. “You’re already here, so why not make the best of it?”

Something in Sakuya stutters somewhere in his chest, like the first breath after holding it in for so long. The smile Mahiru sends him is a radiant thing—Sakuya wonders if even daybreak will look as beautiful anymore. 

“Mahiru—“ Sakuya hiccups out and blinks his eyes hard to expel the oncoming tears. One of his hands reaches out to cradle the base of Mahiru’s nape and pull him even closer. A gasping laugh pushes out of him, small and fragile. “Mahiru, you’re already the best of it!“


	2. MikuHiru, business au of a sort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a business party, there’s nothing more out of place than the expression on Mahiru’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //SLAMS OPEN THE DOOR HEY I’M BACK WITH ONE MORE AHAHAUHU donut worry, is short (context: mikuhiru where mikuni’s lifestyle generally doesn’t appreciate that he’s dating mahiru, even if mikuni does!! i guess it’s a business au or something??)
> 
> also!!! ReverberatingEchoes!!!! i didn’t forget your soft spot for this pair muhahaha, i hope it’s to your liking u w u)/
> 
> music: [ The Promise, FFXIII OST ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxSXm8qGjS8)

When the argument’s over, and the wounds of the altercation are left alone for now, Mikuni finds Mahiru seated a little ways from the rest of the room. The hiding spot, of a sort, is near one of the balcony entrances and close to the curtains where it’s half shrouded in shadows and half illuminated by the bright light of the ballroom. His hands tremble as he nurses a glass of wine, but Mahiru’s obviously careful with how he grasps it. The pink of the drink reflects gently against his skin, and it somehow adds to the melancholic air over Mahiru.

The downtrodden sight of Mahiru, whom Mikuni’s only ever used to seeing express loud and honest emotions, makes spite simmer at the back of his head. It’s a familiar thing, an angry disdain that comes and stays so easily, that Mikuni wants nothing more than to unleash on the conceited and immodest fools that ruined the cheer on Mahiru’s face. Pursed lips and downcast eyes are too ill-fitting on someone like him—Mikuni would rather have Mahiru leave such things to Jeje.

However, Mikuni squashes the impulse down. There are more important things than the pretentious tycoons and their unwanted opinions.

“Hey, Mahiru-kun,” Mikuni greets quietly over the settling din of the party. He eyes Mahiru, watching patiently for any of the signs he’s come to know by heart over the months.

“Ah, Mikuni-san.” Mahiru returns disjointly and nearly jerks in surprise. The lines of his arms tense instead, perhaps a habit he’s adapted after being ambushed by Mikuni while holding rather breakable items one too many times. Something of a smile pulls at Mikuni’s lips, despite the slight increase in trembling. “I hope I didn’t ruin your night.”

Mikuni wonders if Mahiru wants to throw the glass, just to hear it smash as fragilely as his heart probably had moments ago. The more instinctive part of Mikuni would love to. Cruel words are too horribly convenient a tool to unmake someone so wonderful. He would know, of course, of its convenience; words of unfailing unkindness are all that’s ever been lined up on his lips.

“What gave you that idea?” Mikuni asks equal parts joking and serious. It may be a failing on his part, that Mahiru feels that way and the thought of it burns at him.

“It’s just… what they’re saying, they’re not entirely wrong.” Red colours Mahiru’s cheeks. An inkling, and a deep knowing, at the back of Mikuni’s head tells him that it’s out of embarrassment more so than the wine. When Mahiru worries his lip, Mikuni wants to upturn a table. “I mean, you could have gone places you know? You could have—“

The sentiment of the words are familiar, in a distant, unbelievable way that reminds Mikuni of one afternoon during the weekend, by a window near a bed whose curtains billowed slowly and gently in the wind––there’d been a warm body in his arms confessing a decade and some years old hurt that’d been nestled and tucked away the day he buried his mother. Mikuni had no words then, only tentative kisses and hugs, but he does now.

“Haven’t I already told you?” Mikuni cuts Mahiru with a smile, settling down beside him and plucking the wine glass out of his fingers to set it aside. The befuddled expression that fixes itself on Mahiru’s face makes Mikuni feel light, free in a way. He can feel his heart expanding in his chest. 

“Mikuni-san?” Mahiru says and sits up from his slouch to regard Mikuni. His wide eyes endear him further to Mikuni; gently, Mikuni takes Mahiru’s hands into his own. Underneath his larger hands and longer fingers, Mahiru feels fragile and small like a young bird. Yet, Mikuni knows very well just how much life overflows from him and that makes Mahiru strong, so very strong.

“As long as you’re here, it’s fine.” Mikuni says patiently as he presses kisses to dainty hands and slim wrists. It’s nice to gaze at them and admire the hard work it’s capable of doing so steadily. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Mahiru-kun.”

Vaguely, when Mahiru tears up with breathtaking awe, Mikuni thinks that his ring-finger is a little bare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea my friends, i just?? man, the early morning is something else oTL anyway, i hope you guys had a good first day of the week!!


	3. LichtMahi, arranged marriage au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Licht has things to tell Mahiru while the night is still young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!!! I’M BACK!!!! WHO MISSES ME!!!!! HA i’m kidding oTL anyway, not going to lie, i had this for a month but forgot it existed since i was in a funk when i did this. it's also longer than i expected AHAHA i think i sprinkled some childhood friends au in here too, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> context is that the arranged marriage thing?? yeah, it’s not between licht and mahiru :3c
> 
> also, if reverberatingechoes’ soft spot is mikuhiru, mine is lichtmahi so here you guys go, i hope you enjoy it!! //whispers suffer with me please
> 
> music: [Perfect World, Vision of Escaflowne OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjsX0IrUtBw)

The night has already aged by some hours when Licht’s heart stirs with heaviness and frustration. He lies on Mahiru’s cramped bed spaced, back pressed against the wall and so very close to Mahiru. Like this, Licht doesn’t have to concentrate hard to count the individual lashes of Mahiru’s eyes. His heart races, thrumming loudly in his ears that he has to wonder if it will wake Mahiru from his slumber. The tiredness beneath his eyes make Licht hope not.

Moonlight rests gently on the curves of Mahiru’s cheeks; its roundness make him look awfully young but, Licht knows there’s a burden more suited to their elders resting on his shoulders. Licht reaches out to ghost his fingers against Mahiru’s cheek, marvelling at the pale freckles that dot the surface of his skin. It’s barely there, the mark of Mahiru being a child of the outdoors, but Licht thinks that he’s watched Mahiru for so long that such subtleties are stark things to him. The whole of Licht mourns that once the sun rises, Mahiru will have to bid farewell to the boy he used to be.

“I still have a lot of things to tell you,” Licht murmurs and lets his fingers slip into the downy strands of Mahiru’s hair. He wishes that these moments could last forever, where Mahiru could stay by his side and Licht wouldn’t have to say goodbye. “But there’s barely enough time.”

“I’m all ears then, Licht-san,” Mahiru whispers softly, although his lashes barely flutter with wakefulness. It makes Licht’s heart jolt in surprise, and his fingers freeze mid-way through his carding motions. “The sun won’t rise for another few hours.”

A beat of silence passes between them; Licht wonders if Mahiru’s words are born out of sleep talk—he’d always been prone to such things even as a child. Mahiru never woke from his murmuring, and Licht never told him about it, but tonight the words are too deliberate. Licht watches how Mahiru opens his eyes to gaze at him with a weariness that pinches his brows. The crease on Mahiru’s forehead has no business being there, and Licht’s distracted by the desire to kiss it away. He nearly gives into it, but his eyes catch the white of Mahiru’s ceremonial garb hanging on the wall. 

The reality of things chases the sentiment away, stamps at it until it’s nothing more than a faded thing at the back of Licht’s mind.

“Licht-san?” Mahiru implores as he reaches out a hand to grasp at the fingers Licht still has buried in Mahiru’s hair. Even now, Mahiru manages to find it in himself to worry for someone else and part of Licht churns with familiar anger.

That aspect of Mahiru, Licht has found over the years of having to chase children and their own brand of cruelty away, is far too easy to take advantage of. The only difference between then and now is that the ones left to chase away are far worse. Yet Licht can’t find it in himself to wish Mahiru to be any different—it’s much easier to collect bruises on his fists and palpable dislike from faceless monsters.

He opens his mouth to say as much, but the sentiment is lacking—wrong in a away. It bubbles, then simmers into silence. Nothing comes out, and he can only stare at Mahiru as if the words are on the planes of his face.

It’s ironic, Licht supposes, that he has much to say yet isn’t in possession of the words to shape it out and give to Mahiru. All he has to offer are emotions that overflow from the depths of his growing sorrow and fondness. His fingers fidget in anticipation, but Mahiru has no use for such trivial things, not when the coming day will bring him far, far away from Licht and the sweet days of childhood. Licht scowls at the thought, feeling the urge to lash out arise. His muscles twitch with habitual violence, but the warmth at his side reigns it in. It won’t do to throw a tantrum tonight, of all nights.

With great effort, Licht draws his hand away from Mahiru and pulls himself up to sit against the wall. Mahiru follows the movement with his eyes, and Licht wonders if he can ever hope to for something more than this moment can ever offer him. The imploring attentiveness Mahiru looks to him with makes Licht hope for it, makes him tense with frustrated longing.

Then, with a sudden weariness, Licht’s shoulders sag.

“Mahiru,” Licht whispers, looking to him with unformed words at the back of his throat. A brittle smile stretches his lips as he considers Mahiru. His chest is bursting with a flurry of emotions that he has no capacity to name. He chokes, a little, on his words. “Mahiru, all I want for you is to be happy.”

The shift on Mahiru’s face makes Licht ache for him; his expression is a crumping thing that echoes the loneliness Licht saw long ago. Mahiru sits up and moves closer to him with hurried motions; Licht has no qualms opening his arms for Mahiru to fall into. There are fingers digging into his sleepwear, and the hammering he feels is too strong to be merely his own heartbeat.

“Licht-san,” Mahiru says haltingly, voice soft, as he buries his face against Licht’s chest. Licht tightens his hold on Mahiru, brings him closer in some vain attempt to keep him right there in his arms where he belongs.

“I want you to be happy,” Licht reiterates a bit more insistingly, wanting to impart something to Mahiru.

“I… if it’s not—if I’m not—” Mahiru stumbles uncharacteristically over his words, “Licht-san if you’re not there, how could I…?”

The tremor in Mahiru’s voice makes Licht want to spirit Mahiru away from the way things are, to where he would be free to laugh as loud as he wants and smile as often as he can. The only place for Mahiru in the morning to come will only bring him away from such things, and from Licht. Angry obstinacy boils in him at the idea of it; Mahiru’s place is by Licht’s side—if he were to leave, Licht knows that the space will only ever be empty. It frustrates him that he can’t do a thing about it—

But whether or not he can has never stopped Licht before, even for a moment.

Now should not be different, not when there is someone so precious to Licht who will have to face the consequences of his hesitation. 

“Who said I won’t be there?” Renewed, Licht gives Mahiru a smile like he had when they were much smaller, much younger. “Or more like, who said either of us have to be here? You said it yourself, the sun won’t rise for another few hours.”

Perhaps it’s the years of knowing each for so long, or perhaps it’s the hope that Mahiru watches him as much as he watches Mahiru, but there’s realisation that dawns on Mahiru. It’s a much better look on him. “You… you don’t mean…?”

“Simply speaking,” Licht quotes with a deep-seated fondness curling his smile even further, “if there’s something you want to do, then you do it. Right?”

Moonlight continues to spill into the room, shaping out the planes of Mahiru’s face and revealing to Licht the teary wonder in his eyes. The sorrow is gone, and in its place is the same childlike awe that would often shape itself in the wake of Licht declaring his own brand of paving a way through with all the confidence of youth. 

Mahiru looks at Licht as if he’s offered the world and all its explorable corners to him—which in truth, he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the original ending was a lot more different––it was sadder, less uh, hopeful? either way, please tell me how it feels to you o w o)/


	4. TsuruHiru, Meiji period au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps there’s a place for Tsurugi, here in the corners of Mahiru’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM sporadic update!!! only have two things to say!! firstly, reverberatingechoes, may you find the time to rest and avoid burning out, given your schedule!! everyone else as well, i hope you guys are hanging in there, wherever you are!!
> 
> secondly, i’d like to share the music i imagine as the background!! the previous uploads also have them in the notes now, if you’re interested. for this particular one it’s: [Another Arni, Chrono Cross OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0uYjNYl8fA)

Orange and purple line the horizon, putting a stark brightness against the shadowed silhouettes of the ships sailing away for the night. The ocean’s waves glitter somehow despite the dying light, but Tsurugi has no eye for it. One of the ships sailing away was supposed to be his accommodations for the week, yet he finds himself elsewhere. The trip to Europe for more goods to bring back is to be put on hold, he supposes a little forlornly. Absently, he makes note of the money that he could have earned with such a trip.

At the very least, however, his extended stay in Japan is free of charge. The room he finds himself in is a familiar sight to him, even if there are a few new pieces of furniture. His weariness seems to ebb away, somehow.

“Don’t look so down, Tsurugi-san.” A soft clack on the desk turns Tsurugi’s attention away from the window to the warm meal before him. It appears to be a native meal, but the aroma is something that Tsurugi’s become accustomed to during his time abroad rather than in Japan. He looks up to see Mahiru giving him a triumphant grin. “Before you frown even more, try this! I think I finally managed to make that curry you tried in Britain!”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tsurugi’s lips, the feeling of amusement settling easily over his shoulders like it’s something that belongs, like it’s something Tsurugi has the luxury to afford. He stretches a hand out, and rubs his his thumb over the pads of his middle and pointer fingers. “Taste testing costs money, Mahiru-kun!”

Rather than sputter indignantly at him, Mahiru merely raises an unimpressed brow and juts his hip out to rest his hand on. Tsurugi supposes it’s a testament to just how long they’ve known each other. “So do accommodations for the week, Tsurugi-san, but you don’t hear me asking for money.” Mahiru too reaches out, but his hands are going towards the bowl of curry. “Still, if you want to pay for them, I’m sure Tetsu’s family would be happy to––”

The words aren’t a threat of having no place to stay, but Tsurugi has come to understand it as a real threat of no supper for the night. While there are foreign fruits in his luggage by the bed, the food prepared so carefully by Mahiru has a certain taste that not even flavours beyond the sea can compare to. Tsurugi has to wonder at that. Reaching out to hold onto the bowl, vaguely noting how many times he’s used this particular one, he replies, “I’m only saying, Mahiru-kun, not denying! Your house and food are too good to pass up.”

Mahiru’s expression morphs from unimpressed into something Tsurugi is learning to call fond as he snorts. “I should hope so, considering how hard I work just to keep the house clean, and the food good.”

His words get the beginnings of a chuckle out of Tsurugi. There’s truth to Mahiru’s words, yet somehow there’s certainly something more than that as well. Within the walls of the old home, Tsurugi finds that it’s far too easy to settle down. The jittering wanderlust that often pushes him to the roar of the sea quiets into an indiscernible hush, as if muffled by the comforts of the mundane. He can’t say if it’s the way the house overlooks the dock, or if it’s merely how well-worn and well loved each corner is, but whatever the case, it calls and lulls Tsurugi each and every time he arrives at the port.

Perhaps it has to do with the hard work Mahiru grumbles about exerting.

Silence descends over them as Tsurugi prepares to eat, it’s of a comforting sort that lets him hear the shifting waters from the sea. If he concentrates, Tsurugi supposes that he can imagine himself eating aboard the ship and feeling the way it rocks underneath him. The sense of traveling is a constant for him, yet he cannot find it in himself to want to replace the sensation of being where he is with where he should have been. It’s a curious thing, but even curiouser is that the extra room in Mahiru’s home is free for him to use each time he asks.

He has to wonder at that. There are little things that Tsurugi can depend on to remain the same, regardless of the way life must go. Scooping up a spoonful of curry, he tells himself that he’s lucky that he can count on Mahiru and his home.

The curry still seems to give off steam, and the hand he has around the bowl is easily warmed. Its aroma is welcoming, a little like a reward. When he swallows a mouthful, it somehow manages to track a path of warmth until it settles in his gut. From there, he can feel the warmth continue to spread out to the rest of him. It’s a foreign experience, more so than the first time he’s tried the original dish.

“How’s the curry, Tsurugi-san?” Mahiru asks after a while, looking at him expectantly. “Was I able to recreate the flavours?”

Tsurugi blinks at Mahiru, considering, before attempting to articulate the odd surge of the unknown in him. Try as he might however, his words turn unintelligible at the back of his throat. It burns in the wake of the warmth of the food, of the way Mahiru eagerly looks at him, of the strange, strange comfort of the room. What he’s capable of offering is merely the smouldering remains of what he can only begin to understand.

“Not quite, Mahiru-kun.” Tsurugi forces; he wonders about the way he must appear because Mahiru is more confused than disappointed. His chest is tight, but Tsurugi continues. “But the way it tastes makes me think that it’d be nice to visit more often.”

Surprise lays itself neatly over Mahiru’s confusion, before smoothening into a certain sort of softness. “Then it’s a good thing that this house will always welcome you.”

By now, Tsurugi feels the warmth spread throughout the entirety of himself. The words, the forwardness of what Mahiru is giving him makes Tsurugi think back to a bard from England who once wrote that not all glittering things are gold. The words were something he scoffed at, some time ago, but Mahiru, in this moment, in this very moment is a testament to those very words––that he is more than the gold that fills up Tsurugi’s pockets but not his existence.

“I wish I deserved that, Mahiru-kun,” Tsurugi whispers, voice equal parts awe and lost.

Mahiru blinks at him, suitably surprised once more at such sentimental words before he laughs kindly. The light coming from the setting sun makes Mahiru's eyes glow as he reaches out. “You don’t need to worry about that, Tsurugi-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dslkf;alkdjads;jlk how… how does one write??? oTL anyway, i was going to include an entire “hey mahiru” “yes?” “i… i’m back” “welcome back, tsurugi-san” portion, but i didn’t think it fit well enough given how it went o 3 o)/
> 
> also, can any of you guess who the bard is, and where the line’s from?? of course, it’s not the exact line but the essence is still there AHAHA


	5. MisoHiru, canon verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misono and Mahiru are a little older now, sharing a soft afternoon together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to get back into the groove of writing oTL anyway, reverberatingechoes, i have polished this in hopes that it reaches you and does its job!! i hope all of you are doing well!!
> 
> music: [ Little Love, Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure OST ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGuBLOb0EL8)

Very gently, Misono presses a kiss against Mahiru's cheek. The obvious softness beneath his lips makes Misono think of youth, of days melting easily into the afternoon that make him want to doze of. A self-imagined picture of Mahiru as a child flashes at the back of his head, complete with a big grin and sun-bright eyes. He thinks he could do this forever, this pressing of kisses against Mahiru and basking in his existence. It would be far too easy. 

A light laugh echoes around the room, sounding refreshingly carefree. Misono wants to bottle it up just to carry it around and label it good luck. It probably is. After all, anything of and from Mahiru cannot be anything short of good fortune.

Now, the sentiment may be close to the ramblings of a love-sick fool but Misono doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment for it. At times, he wonders if the case is that he can't. The familiarity of contentment far outweighs the meagre burn of what could have been something less.

There’s no longer space for things that don’t matter—things like shame and hesitance and regret. Misono much rather prefers to fill himself with better things.

And in doing so, it's allowed him—in the days he marks with the presence of Mahiru in his life—to become someone capable of standing tall. He’s not sure at what point things had changed—perhaps when Shirota became Mahiru—but with great effort and great determination, the vestiges of a childhood unrest had finally faded into mere memories. It’s become something he can laugh at now; in its place is something far less weighty on his shoulders. 

He thinks that it's never been like this—warm, settled, stable—before.

He chalks it up to Mahiru. 

"You're smiling," Mahiru says, "I can feel it on my cheek."

"I am." Misono breathes, no longer pressed so closely to Mahiru but still hovering against his cheek. "I just, you know…”

His voice trails off with feelings that he can’t possibly articulate as accurately as he wants to, as he needs to. 

It’s a pleasant buzz that threatens to burst from his chest, even as his throat remains empty. A soft huff escapes his own lips. Of course, he muses, now that he has the quiet around him to speak honestly, he's grasping for words. But it's hard to do anything else, right here, right now. It’s as though the world is telling him to step back and take in the moment, to savour the utter nowness of it.

"Misono?" Mahiru turns to him, a curious expression on his face. By now, the sight of it is familiar to Misono—the crease in his brow, the single dimple on his cheek, the lightest smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Even in his lack of artistry, Misono is sure he can accurately recreate the face of his dearest Mahiru. He’s memorised each slope and plane by now. Looking at Mahiru feels like a culmination of something wonderful. 

The need to speak then melts into simple want, a want that flows more into his movement than his voice. 

Misono surges forward, pressing his lips against Mahiru once more. But rather than the soft roundness from earlier, he kisses something his mouth moulds against. A returning pressure comes as a reply, building up before Mahiru pulls away. Heat rises to Mahiru's cheeks, and Misono has to marvel at how it's not him who's red this time. It's something of a victory, since Mahiru is rarely so embarrassed by affection.

Although, Misono thinks fondly, most shows of affection are instigated by Mahiru himself.

"You've kissed me twice this afternoon," Mahiru states; he seems pleased. 

Misono shrugs before tilting Mahiru's face down and kissing him on the nose. "Thrice."

"Silly me," Mahiru’s smile widens, "I should review my numbers."

"I'll give you things to count," Misono replies easily, taken in by the lovely shade of pink on Mahiru. To accentuate his point, he leans forward once more. 

"That’s four times now," Mahiru laughs. Misono feels overwhelmed, but filled to the brim with warmth—it's possibly the closest he'll ever come to kissing the sun. 

"And a lot more to count." Misono nods firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> out of curiosity, do the songs i link add to the atmosphere or nah?

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, please let me know!! whether by kudos or comments, it’s always fun hearing from you guys hoho (◡‿◡✿)


End file.
